


Refutation

by TulipsofIsolation



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Surviving, Survivor Guilt, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-05
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:08:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23032222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TulipsofIsolation/pseuds/TulipsofIsolation
Summary: He could refute her claim. Tell her she was being crazy and none of this was her doing. However, each body, each soul that had been lost in the war could've been saved, had she only listed to the answers. Post War. Dramione Sequel to Answers
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	1. Chapter one

The rain came swiftly to Diagon Alley. It bounced off the stone paved road, puddling quickly along the path as those caught in the down pour ran for shelter. She felt the water seep into her shoes and pulled the hood off her head looking up into the sky. People ran past her; laughter broke out from behind a quickly closing door. Lights shone brightly around the closed shutters of the shop windows; minutes ago, she had been unable to walk through the crowded pathway, now the road was clear as the last door shut leaving her alone in the silence. She embraced the cool water hitting her face as it wiped away the tears she had been trying to hide moments before. The lights and sounds from the fire works had tried to bring her back to that night and she could still smell the odor of burned flesh in the air. She felt the ache in her chest as the walls she built around the memories threatened to fall.

Memories of those that had perished before they had been unable to do anything. The rain had been a blessing. The smell had begun to fade, and the fireworks had disappeared as the happy people retreated behind their walls. She could breath still. That panic attacks that used to take hold of her over the slightest noise was gone.

It had been two years since they won the war. Every year the Wizarding world celebrated the defeat of the Dark Lord by recognizing those that had died, every year she walked this path and was brought back to the past. She moved silently allowing the rain to wash away the memories. It had begun to thrive again as the year passed. Families walked the streets and enjoyed that pleasantries that the alley could bring them. She made it a mission to avoid the section as much as possible. They had been hailed as heroes at the conclusion of the battle. Those that had hidden away safely, refused to come out to join the cause, suddenly came in waves when the fighting was done. They had hosted parties and feasts in celebration. Money that could’ve been used during the fighting was thrown around wildly. It was better that she stayed away from it all. It was the great orange building and its inhabitants inside that lured her out on this day. She opened the door to the shop and shook slightly letting the rain fall off of her.

“Hermione you made it!” Ginny yelled bouncing down the staircase and pulled her in close wrapping her arms around her thin frame. She quickly scolded pushing her back. “Why are you so wet? Did you play in it?” Ginny took her wand out and aimed it at her, she flinched as the warmth took over her. She smiled as the witch took her in for another hug and she lifted her arms to return it.

“You just missed Harry, he went out to get something across the street, he’ll be back before its time don’t worry about that. Ron and George are here on the roof. We’ve been waiting on you to show. I was starting to wonder, but I know how this day is for you” Ginny smiled and squeezed her arms before releasing them. Hermione could only stare in return as the witches smile faltered. “This year still bad as the last?” Ginny asked quietly. As if talking about it was going to break her. She shook her head and smiled at last.

“I’ll be fine Ginny. Really.” She walked past the witch and up the stairs to the top of the Weasley brothers famed shop. She stood in the doorway and observed the laughter of those on the roof. The boys had protected it from the rain and she could see the drops trying to force their way through. She let her eyes scan across the happy couples that ran around the room. George and Angela toasted to the crowd and cheers rose up to meet them. Angela lounged resting comfortably on Georges side. Hannah and Neville passed a cup back and forth laughing at a joke she had missed. Luna sat smiling with her eyes closed enjoying from the cup that she too held in her hand. They were healing, happy even, those that wandered around the rooftop talked and mingled as if this was any other day.

She didn’t belong here.

She turned back towards the door as Ron shouted her name and she felt her shoulders stiffen slightly. “About time you decide to join us. We almost started with out you.” He said walking up to her and taking her hand, leading her to the rest of the survivors. That’s what the meeting was, those that survived, the original groups that help reform the Order, to remember those that they had lost. As if any of them truly needed help remembering. Hannah Abbott had suggested it before the anniversary last year, thought it would help them heal. Drinks and memories fixed everything in the mind of the barmaid. She had rolled her eyes at the Hufflepuff then, but still had dragged herself to the meeting that year and this.

She felt a hand touch her shoulder and she flinched and turned quickly. Harry raised his hand and smiled slightly handing her a cup that she quickly put to her lips, allowing the burning liquid to flow down to her empty stomach.

“Are we ready?” He looked at the group as the laughter stopped and those seated rose to their feet. She followed Harry and Ron to the center of the group as the eyes landed on the trio. Slowly she raised her wand to the sky and let off the first spark, the gold light burst through the barrier above them and allowed the rain to find her again. She lifted her face to the sky and let the newly formed tears mix once again with the water falling down. The group followed their lead pointing at the sky and letting their own golden lights fill the night air. The roof tops of the alley lit up with those that had their own to remember. A light for a body. For each and every soul that she had betrayed.


	2. Chapter 2

He stared at the rooftop of the obnoxiously orange building and looked through the rain as the figures on top stood and approached the edge. The fireworks had stopped, signaling the approaching memorial. He had left the crowded interior of the Leaky Cauldron and stood on the front steps to get a better view. He had heard about it last year, the fallen memorial, and refused to come from the manor. A night of remembrance to heal, that’s what the papers had called it. Potter was leading the remembrance; it would be a celebration he wasn’t going to receive a personal invite too. From anyone in the wizarding world.

It wasn’t until the Daily Prophet showed them raising their wands, she had looked different but the headline had given her away. The Trio of survivors stood front and center, kicking off the memorial. She had lost the softness to her, it was replaced with stone. He could see that from the way she moved, the Prophet showed her mask like face hap-hazardly raising her wand to the sky. He realized the significance of the night then, anything that could bring the enigma that was Hermione Granger into the limelight had to be important. She hadn’t healed. He could see it in her eyes, the small, frail way she held herself told him that. The girl he had left at the castle that night was gone. In her place was someone he wouldn’t have recognized had he ran into her on the streets. He had folded the picture up and stuck it in the book he was reading at the time. 

There had been rumors, after the war, that the golden trio had their own rough patches, their own struggles healing. Even in the hell of Azkaban he heard the whispers. She had refused to attend the trials, had refused to attend the celebrations, had refused the spotlight that they so quickly tried to force on her.

He watched from under the awning to the Leaky Cauldron as the night sky turned gold and raised his drink to the sky. It would have to do, he wouldn’t let off a light, those that he cared about had others doing so in their honor, those more worthy than he ever would be. Those he had lost would be shammed by his light anyways, who had he really lost? Bellatrix? He snorted into his drink and mockingly raised it to the sky again. He watched as one by one they patted each other on the back and hugged. He watched as she lowered her head and turned away from the edge. Alone.

He shook his head and sipped on his drink as those in the building behind him began to cheer and sing their songs. He raised his hood and lowered his head as the doors around him opened and others came back out to the streets as the rain stopped. This was the last place he should be on a night such as this. He quietly sipped and observed as the doors to the joke shop shot open and she fled into the crowd. Potter yelling at her retreating figure, words he couldn’t make out as the crowd cheered on their hero. He raised his glass to her retreating figure and downed the last drop before turning to walk the other way. He had miss judged his step and tumbled into a man that had their back turned.

“Sorry” he mumbled turning quickly away to continue down the path. He needed to get away from here, back to the solitude of the Manor, he needed to check on _her_ and then get ready for the week. The small ministry job he had managed to snag had left him with hours of work and mediocre pay. Kept him away from the eyes of the public and that was good enough for him.

He could hear the heavy, clumsy footsteps follow him into the night. The tension in his shoulders doubled as he turned down an alley in order to get out of the path. If he could just disappear this wouldn’t be a problem. Since the war, there had been apparition points place in Diagon Alley, to insure they knew who was coming in and out. Something that was great to law abiding citizens, those that wouldn’t need to escape quickly. He sighed when he approached the dead end, he had turned the wrong way, he mentally cursed himself and lowered his hood turning to face the heavy footed man coming down the alley at him. The same man he had bumped into leaving approached him now, red faced and angry. They always looked angry. He could feel his shoulders tense and tried to unclench his jaw as the man screamed his name.

“You’re awfully stupid coming out here tonight.” He rolled his eyes and walked closer, as the man quickly approached forcefully knocking his shoulder.

“I’m just trying to get back home. That’s it.” He said raising his arms, he made to walk away as the wizard knocked into him again. He balled his hands into a fist and relaxed them again. He looked at the man, looked at the sweat beads that fell from his hair line as his face continued to build in color, he was a stranger, no one that would mean anything to him if he was simply gone.

He shook his head, clearing the thoughts as his hands relaxed. The man staggered around, and Draco snorted, he was a drink to far was all. “I think we all just need to get back home.” He raised his hands higher, showing them empty, as the man reached for his wand and aimed it in his direction. “You don’t want to do this.” He looked into the man’s eyes, relaxing his mind, looking for a way in. If he couldn’t persuade him to leave vocally, maybe he could mentally.

“You shouldn’t have been allowed to live after what you did. You and your family are a scab to wizard kind and should’ve been executed like the rest of them.” Draco clinched his teeth and lowered his hands to his hip. He felt his wand, his fingers wrapped around it as the man pushed into him one last time. He jerked it out of its keep but the man rushed him then, the full force of his body hit him and knocked him off balance and onto the wet ground below. He felt the fist make contact with his side and grunted before regaining his composure, he pushed up and over spinning them, pinning the man to the ground and landing a blow to his face. The spray of blood was warm on his knuckles as they made contact a second time. He pushed off of him then and the man groaned grabbing onto his nose.

Draco felt the blood drain from his face as he took in the crimson splatters on his robes. He scrambled along the ground, grabbing his wand and running from the alley way. He pulled his hood back over his head and turned back towards the crowd. If he could blend in, he would be able to get to the apparition point and make it back home without incident. He slowly pushed past the bodies to the thickest part of the group.


	3. Chapter 3

The last golden flake left her wand before plummeting them back into the darkness of the night. She sighed and released the tension in her shoulders. She had survived another year. Those around her began to embrace, some wiped tears from their faces. She turned and watched as Angelina wiped a stray tear from Georges face before he broke down, pulling her tightly to him. They all had lost someone in the war, why was it the only one she lost for good was herself? She shook her head and raised it to the sky. She needed to get out of here, while those were embracing, remembering, surviving, were busy.

It had been a coward’s way out of speaking to anyone, but she couldn’t handle the way that they would all spend the rest of the night going through this routine. Drinking to the point of oblivion and opening up on how they felt since the war. She wasn’t going to go through it again, last year she had stayed and allowed them to ply her with enough fire whiskey she could hardly move the day after. She had spent the night blubbering nonsense into a cup, slumped in the corner in a chair, she would survive the memories on her own from here on. She didn’t need fire whiskey and hugs to help her through. She felt for the doorknob and took one last look around the rooftop, she wouldn’t come back next year. She didn’t belong here. She turned to leave she felt a hand grab onto her arm and she violently pulled it away.

Harry stood holding both of his hands up, a small sly smile on his face in apology. He, out of any of them knew how she felt about being grabbed. 

“Sorry” he said following her through the door. “Are you really leaving?”

“I have to I’m sorry, there’s something going south at work and if I don’t get started on it, I’ll be behind tomorrow.” She let the words tumble out and watched as his face changed, hardened.

“It will still be there the next day Hermione, you don’t have to work so hard at being normal. You need to live a bit.” He smiled at her and she forced the corner of her mouth up in return.

“That’s all that any of us are trying to do itsn’t it, live after the war.”

“We can’t let it control the rest of our lives.” He cut her off sharply and she nodded in reply turning to leave again. She could feel him try to reach for her again and she quickly moved out of the way, two steps down and out of reach. She watched him as he stood looking at her, his mouth opened and shut a few times and she could feel the pressure in the room. A laugh broke free from the roof top and he turned away. She took the opportunity to continue down the stairs.

“Hermione, we still haven’t talked about that year.” He called down the stairs at her and she picked up her pace not turning around. She needed to get out of there, today was not the day to go down memory lane with Harry. She felt her pulse increase as she heard his feet heavy on the stairs behind her. She had practically ran out the door, into the crowd.

“You can’t run away forever!” He yelled out behind her as the crowd cheered and she took off into the night. That was where he was wrong though. She easily could run away, as long as he wasn’t willing to follow. She looked at the ground and counted the misplaced brinks that lead to the apparition point. It was 384 total. 200 that curved to the right and 184 the left. Spots that hadn’t been repaired in the efforts to bring Diagon Alley back to its glory. She watched the ground and followed the path leading to the edge of the walls. She had 100 more to go and she could say goodbye to Diagon Alley and the people it brought with it. She heard another heavy set of footsteps coming quickly behind her and she tensed. She stopped and took a breath to calm herself. People can run in public without it signaling danger, you don’t have to panic over running feet. She shook her head and continued walking.

89 more to the left. She was almost there, and she could be home in her warm flat.

The feet kept running and she heard a man call out, just loud enough for her to hear and she increased her pace. There was no need to turn around and invite herself into whatever situation was unfolding behind her. She could just walk to the side. She had 70 more to go, she would walk to the side and it would be okay.

She veered off her path to the left, closer to the wall and heard an oath as the man ran into her. He tried to catch her as they both went down. She felt the wet bricks make contact with her knees and winced at the sharp pain that went through them. She threw her hands out to catch herself, the cold water and dirt splattered along her robes and she cursed under her breath. She could feel the raw skin of her palms. Otherwise she was unscathed. She lowered her head to catch her breath again before rising up onto her knees and turning to look at the fool that had ran into her. She found herself looking into familiar slate eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

He felt the worn pavement crunching under his feet as he ran. He had been spotted again. Covered in the blood of some poor fool who had picked a fight. He ran then, pushing through the crowds, ignoring the protests of those he had knocked over. He just needed to get away from damned town. When half the town thought he was better off dead, he would have a hell of time explaining the blood splatters on his robes away.

Cursing, he ran towards the apparition point, the alley was clear, there was just one person ahead. He could just run past them and be out of here, back at the manor. He heard a shout. Quickly he looked back to see where it was coming, someone was yelling at the edge of the gathering. Was it at him or not? He couldn’t be sure, he pumped his legs faster to be safe, moving to the left to avoid the person ahead as he tried to hear what the person was yelling.

Would they really chase him to the apparition point? Had he underestimated the wizarding worlds ability to hate? His lungs burned as he ran, his peripheral told him the person. The girl. Was out of the way, he stayed left and looked back again at the clearing. He was close.

He felt the collision and grunted. Reaching his hands out to try and catch the girl he had knocked over. He sat on his hands and knees panting, he was sure he had hurt her. She had sat breathing heavily for a moment and he was hesitant to ask anything, this would be it. She would turn, see who he was and how he currently looked. Running and blood stained and report him and he would be done, all of the success he had found in the last year was quickly vanishing before him. She rose to her knees and he froze.

This was it, his final moments free.

She lowered her hood and the long curls he had once been familiar with tumbled down her back as she ran her hands through them. He felt his heart stop in his chest and had to stop himself from letting out an oath. She winced looking at her palms and he stared at her frame. His mind had to be playing tricks on him. She took in a deep breath and he watched as the streetlamp lit the side of her face. No, this couldn’t be. There was no way he had caught up to _her_ that quickly.

He held his breath as she turned her head and opened her eyes. He looked into the familiar golden eyes that had haunted him, the memories of her threatened to pull towards the surface as they sat and stared at each other. “It’s you.” He said staring at her as her face paled at last. The color had slowly left her checks, her eyes lost some of the light that he had seen for just a beat. He counted his breaths as he waited for her to make a move, to break the silence that sat between them like a lead weight. Her eyes broke the contact first and sweep over his robes.

“You’re covered in blood.” She whispered after a moment.

“its not mine.” He said to quickly. She leaned away from him and he stumbled on his words trying to explain, nothing was coming out right. She turned away and he reached for her, he didn’t have time to react as her palm made contact with the side of his face. She quickly rose and ran from the spot that they were sitting, he felt the warmth on his skin, the stinging sensation that was left behind as he sat in the puddle and watched as she ran away.

He sat on the stones and rested his head in his hands. He caught his breath as the stinging began to fade, he ran his hands down and sat with them crossed over his legs. He watched the crowd cheer again and the man yell at the small boy who was escaping the edge, not directed at him at all. He laughed slightly at himself and shook his head before resting it on the bricks behind him. He waited until the rain began again and the streets cleared out before rising and walking to the apparition point. He shed his coat as his feet hit the marble floor of the manor and let the wet clothes pile up as he removed them on his way up the stairs. He walked to the hot shower and let the water pour over him, he watched as the crimson stains that had been flaking on his hands run into the drain below. 

* * *

She felt the lukewarm water hit her back; it would turn cold at any moment, but she didn’t care. She had thought that if she stood under the boiling water for long enough it would warm the numbness that had come to her hands. Instead it had left her skin red and a thickness in the room that she could feel tickling at her. She breathed in the last of the warm air as she looked at her fingers, even though she had scrubbed them raw, she still thought she could see small dots of blood that had come from his skin. It wasn’t his, she could hear him say. She balled her fist up and rubbed her hands together applying more soap to the already clean skin. After all these years away from him, all these years hating herself for that year. She let the cold water now run over her and stood staring into the white pattern of the tile that lined her bath.

She hated him, hated her, she hated the both of them. All that she had let slide had come swarming back to her. Memories of Katie, and how her hands still had a tremor to them from the curse. Ronald, whom she hadn’t been able to fully look in the eye. The war… she shook her head and breathed in more of the steam. She tried to will away the lingering smell of apples and ink that she had once dreamed about, it had taken one look at him and she had felt her heart flutter in her chest, had felt a warmth that she had not felt in a long time. All it took was to look at him and all of the butterflies in her stomach had come back.

She gagged and violently pulled the shower curtain away, grabbing the towel that hung from the rail. All he had to do was open his mouth and ruin that. Not my blood. She shouldn’t care, she should have cursed him to oblivion and instead she ran. Just like old times.

The bathroom door opened, and she squealed clutching the towel closer to herself.

“Get out! Its obvious I’m in here.” She yelled

“Yes, as you have been for the past hour, get out Granger. We have work to do and I would like to sleep sometime tonight.” Blaise glared at her for a moment before turning and leaving. “Also, I would have liked some hot water, some of us live here too.” He slammed the door behind him. She leaned over the sink looking into the basin. She slowly counted to ten before drying her hair. Blaise had been the only person she knew she could split the flat with that wouldn’t cause problems, he cleaned, kept to his work and didn’t ask questions. That last one would have been impossible with anyone else. She sighed and walked back to her room to change before heading back to the living quarters to work.

She hated journalism, hated it more than most things that were left in the world, however living with Blaise she was no longer blindsided by what the media was going to say about her. She was even able to keep her name out of the papers, something she would have killed for after the war first ended. She winced at her own thoughts.

“You went tonight didn’t you?” She nodded and he gathered his papers closer, quill moving furiously along. “You’re home awfully early. Thought I was going to have to pick you up off the floor again.” He eyed her as she sat down and fiddled with the fray on her pants.

“I went. Harry tried to talk again, and I left.” She sighed

“You still haven’t talked to them?”

“What am I supposed to say Blaise? All sixth year I was hooking up in corners knowing full well that someone was going to die. Oh also the person I was with, yeah he actually started the war.” she threw her hands up and laid back on the couch pulling the pillows over her face.

“Yes, actually you are. I would also add that it was his childhood enemy, really bury that knife deep in. However, I think hooking up is putting it a little extreme, it’s not like you were shagging in the library. Were you?” She could feel the heat forming in her cheeks and clutched the pillow tighter to her face. Maybe she could just suffocate here, that would be easier no. “Granger stop trying to suffocate and talk to me, I have to tell you something important anyways.”

She groaned and rose up looking at Blaise as he sat parchment in hand looking at the words he had written down. “I have nothing for you on the pygmy puffs, the report didn’t come to our office and I really didn’t have the time or the patience to go and track Yingly down to get it, can we just talk about the magical creatures column tomorrow. Honestly I think I would just like to lay down.” She begged him with her eyes, but she could see the line that wasn’t usually there forming at the creases. His face turned hard as he thought long and hard about what he wanted to say. “What’s wrong.” She asked folding her arms across her chest.

“There was a man who said he was attacked in an alley tonight.” He lowered his paper and she watched as the words disappeared. Back to the Prophet. “He said some funny things, most think he was drunk, but something stood out and I think its time we talked about it.” She waved her hand, urging him to talk.

“He said Draco was the one who attacked him.” She could feel the pause in the air as she nodded her head a few times, least she knew whose blood had potentially been on her hands. She felt the silence stretch out and waited for him to fill it. He sat patiently across from her and watched as she processed what he said.

“But you already knew that” Blaise leaned forward and rest his face in his hands sighing. “I’m sitting here prepping to have to sweep you off the damn floor and you already knew what I was going to say. Probably before I even did. I didn’t even think you knew he was still alive, much less aware of his movements.” Blaise rose throwing his hands in the air as she continued to nod.

“I saw him. Close to the apparition point. I knew he made it through the war, he tried to approach me. I wanted to kill him that day, after all he had done during the war.” She balled her fist up as Blaise sighed and nodded his head. “He had blood on him, said it wasn’t his.”

“Shit. Hermione. I mean come on.” Blasie ran his hands through his hair and waited for her to say more, she could see the words in his head forming, he wanted to scream at someone.

“Keep it out of the paper Blaise, as best you can” she let the words out and rose from the chair closing the door and letting the tears fall.


	5. Chapter 5

_The room was dark, the candles that had lit the ballroom had been blown out in the rush to get them into the building. The screaming had stopped, and the final echo had bounced off the large room. They stood in a circle, watching as she evaded the questions, the Cruciatus curse was hard not to cave to but she didn’t. She would never give them up, the two fools in the dungeon would never have been able to do what she was doing now. She was stronger than anyone knew. Even himself. His hands had shook; when the golden eyes had looked into his own, he could feel the blood pool into his fingers and drip onto the floor as his nail cut into his skin. He continued to tighten his hands with each of her screams._

_She had not broken eye contact with him. He felt the bile in the back of his throat and waited for her to look away, yet she never did. She was challenging him, **You can stop this.** He could feel the thoughts invade his mind and he shut his eyes before the screaming begun again. He could practically feel the knife cutting into her, and his skin crawled. Sweat broke out on his brow and he stood like a statue in order to not fall. _

_His eyes opened and stared at the wood floor watching as the blood poured into the cracks of the floorboard. Each cut seemed deeper as Bellatrix laughed at the cruel words written in her skin. She had stopped screaming, the golden eyes no longer stared into his soul but through him. Was she breathing? He waited, clinching his fists as his eyes flickered over her, he waited for her chest to rise and fall. He could count the beats of his heart in anticipation. He matched eyes with the demons in the room, their red eyes smiled at him as he looked face to face. Why was she not breathing? Where were they? He shook slightly as the door was blasted open._

He woke up with a start, sitting up quickly and letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. He felt the cold sweat run down his spine, and he shivered at the feeling. It had been a long time since he had dreamed of that night. It had taken him many nights to stop the shaking in his hands from the small battle, had taken him even longer to remove the sight of her blood running towards him. He had removed the flooring in the ballroom the moment his feet stepped out of Azkaban.

He rose from the bed and opened the window taking in the cool air of the dawn. He could feel the screams of the past bouncing around in his head. He reached for the flask at his bed side and brought it to his lips, cringing as the warm liquid ran down his dried throat and flowed through his veins. He watched as the sun rose over the hills beyond the manor and sighed taking another swig from the flask. He needed to head to the St. Mungos before it got too late in the day or he would be there all night. He should have gotten up earlier than this, he took another swig of his flask and winced closing the lid and putting it back on the table.

He shouldn’t have tried to touch her, that was his first mistake. Maybe, just maybe she would have talked to him. She acknowledged him after the war, screamed at him, maybe she would have done that again. But her eyes, the warmth that he had always known her to have, the fire that fueled her, was gone.

It had shaken him to the core.

He shrugged his shoulders and dressed for the day, tucking his flask in his pocket. He clinched his hands again and waited for the shaking to end. It would not do anyone any good to be caught researching drunk on Fire whiskey, he thought staring at the man in the mirror. He rolled his sleeves and apparated to St. Mungos.

\--

Her shoes clicked on the tile of floor of the ministry. The polished floor echoed until she breached the doors then the voices of the ministry became deafening. There was always a lingering sadness she felt walking through the wide arches, the memories that she had of this place still haunted her. She shook her head, her curls rolled from one shoulder to the other, she would not travel down memory lane today, the tears from last night could stay in the past. She kept her eyes forward as she quickly made her way to the corridors to her office. Most people avoided her on a good day, she was not known to be warm and comforting, not since she began working in the prosecution of most of the death eaters, all but one at least. She was determined and headstrong, that kept people away. She bristled at the thought and raised her shoulders higher, the previous year she had been overwhelmed with gratitude after the remembrance, her face had been plastered on every cover of the Prophet and she had to fight her way through. Blaise had kept his promise from last night and the article this year had been brief and to the point, she owed him once again. She quickened her pace as the already crowded room increased in capacity. She did not want to press her luck.

“Hermione!” she heard her name and slowed her pace slightly, “Why are you running?” Ron caught up to her and flung an arm around her shoulder. She bristled slightly before relaxing. He pulled her to him, and she wrapped her arm comfortably around his waist. To many it would seem affectionate, to her it was simply comfortable. Ron had been supportive to a fault after the war, however many attempts at communication had come up short and he had moved on, it was easier that way. He had moved home and she was sharing a flat with an enemy. “Our favorite journalist has magically kept you out of the papers again. Can you tell the git to keep my face off the cover as well?”

“Ronald. I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She smiled slightly to herself.

“Sure you don’t.” He bristled and waved as a passerby shouted his name. “I’m sure you have never once persuaded him to do anything in regard to the Prophet and he simply adores my features.” She laughed and pulled away from Ron as they approached the elevators. “Honestly though, I am happy you came last night. I was worried you wouldn’t but I’m now worried that you left so quickly.”

“Ron, I can’t talk about it. I had work to do and did not feel it appropriate to have someone drag me home.” She shook her head as the doors opened.

“Yeah I figured you’d have something as an excuse.” He shook his head and she made to protest, he raised his hands and cut her off before she could begin “Look me and Harry pulled a case in last night after everything, someone’s mind has been messed with again. Looks like legilimency gone wrong. You will want to hit the hospital before the healers get to them. See it with your own eyes while we find the guy.” Ron shrugged his shoulders and turned the other way. She paused and tapped her foot on the ground for a moment. Her office had been so close, Blaise needed information from Yingly but the hospital sounded much more necessary. She sighed and rolled her shoulders heading back through the ministry and to St. Mungos.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient with me as I have battled the great mental health fight this pandemic has brought us, I appreciate all of you who have read thus far and wanted to give two complete chapters to let you know I am still here. I will hopefully get back to Thursday posting!

* * *

"Can I help you?" The woman looked up from her charts as Hermione looked around the building. The sharp smells were always unexpected for a hospital that didn't use antiseptic, the potions of the day lingered in the air, she cleared her throat as the woman looked at her expectantly.

"I'm sorry, yes I am with Wizengamont Administration, Aurors brought in a victim last night, I was needing to witness the trauma."

"You'll need to go to 34 B, the Healers were in there this morning, they called in the researcher when the patient arrived, but he didn't come. Therefore, you have plenty of time." She smiled as the woman motioned her to continue through the halls. The memory ward was one of the hardest wards, she lowered her gaze as she walked through the hallways, some of the poor souls wondered place to place looking for something they would never remember again. She had been here many times after the war, once with her own parents after the reversal charm failed to work. She had seen many horrors post-war, but those whose minds failed them were always the worst. She would have never survived without her mind.   
  
"They tore his mind completely, its ribbons in there at the moment. I might have something that can get us at least a picture of who done it but there are no promises. If I push too hard we could lose everything, he'll be wondering the halls the rest of his life." She paused at the door and felt her heartbeat increase, there was no way she could be hearing correctly, there had to be another answer, something that made more sense.

"I can push. I am not opposed to it Healer, but I would advise against it greatly. They've already been tortured enough" She the door had been left ajar slightly and she peaked through, catching sight of the familiar profile holding onto the face of a drooling man. She quickly turned away from the door and leaned heavily against the wall. Her heartbeat rapidly in her chest and the bubble in her stomach began to rise, crushing her lungs. She had gone two years without seeing Malfoy. Had thought he had gone underground, heard rumors of America, and yet in the past twenty-four hours he had been in her life twice. She felt for the charm around her neck and counted her breathing, Get it together Granger. She sighed and opened her eyes turned and walked through the door. 

* * *

The man was gone, he sifted through the rubble that was left of the brain and shook his head in exasperation. The mind was typically easy to sort through, filed and collected, one could look through the mind and see everything they wanted without causing any sort of damage if experience, whoever had taken a look into this one's mind was obviously not. It was like wading in mud.

"Honestly Healer how many more times do you want me to look for it?" He turned abruptly to the man and the door opened.  
"Private room" the Healer shouted as they both looked at the figure in the doorway. He felt his hands begin to shake as the golden eyes stared into his. He could feel the color drain from his face and as he looked away from her.

"Oh, Miss. Granger, I wasn't expecting anyone so soon. The Aurors brought him in this morning, seems as if the spell was performed illegally, the man was wondering around Muggle London all night babbling on about curses. Mr. Malfoy here is our researcher when it comes to the mind, I'm sure the two of you are familiar?" Draco stared over her and focused on the Healer, nodding his head. "Good, I have another case, take another look Mr. Malfoy to make sure you haven't missed anything and brief Miss. Granger on what we've found so far." The man scowled and closed the door behind him. Draco took the flask from his pocket and drank softly from it, offering it to the dumbfounded woman in front of him.

"Stops the shaking." He muttered returning to the man on the bed. He could feel her staring at him, her eyes penetrated the side of his face and he allowed himself to look at her once before dipping back into the man's head. "There's no lesion on him, the brain is essentially mush." He finally pulled out of the man's mind and turned to her crossing his arms over his chest as she tapped her foot on the floor.

"What are you doing here." She finally broke the silence between them, the heat began to rise in her cheeks.

"My job." He replied curtly motioning his hands around the room. 

"Healers don't typically carry flasks in their pockets." She was angry, well that's fine he could be angry too. There was no reason for her to accost him here, in the streets covered in a stranger's blood was one thing. Here was something else.

"Well it's a great thing that I'm not a Healer then Granger isn't it." He could feel his voice rising and he stopped himself. "Wizengamont huh? So, it was just my trial you refused, apparently, you tried the rest?" He nodded his head and bit his tongue. 

"Is this where you want to have this conversation?" she asked crossing her arms in return. 

"Where else was I supposed to have it? The look on your face last night, you didn't even know the outcome of my trial, did you? I have stayed out of the way, I have done a damn good job in my field, healed plenty of people, and worked my ass off to be trusted in this building. Is that what you want to hear?" 

"I will not argue with you here Mr. Malfoy, I have better things to do with my time." She raised her chin and walked up to the patient looking into his eyes. He clenched his fists at her proximity, it felt like a lifetime since he had been this close to her and he still wanted nothing more than to reach out and feel that she was real. To see if the scent of her hair was still the same if the strawberries of their youth were still present. He patted the flask in his pocket and stepped back giving her space. She reached her hands on both sides of the man's face and sighed when she couldn't get into his mind.   
"You won't find much. It's all muddled anyway." He sighed and leaned against the counter. 

"Send me an owl when you find something." She said and turned to walk away. 

"Hermione." He called as she slammed the door behind her.


	7. Chapter 7

She paced the living room waiting.

If she walked back and forth enough maybe she would keep her cool. Maybe just maybe he didn’t know. Maybe he would be blindsided too. Maybe she wouldn’t hex him as soon as he opened the door. She sipped from the wine glass in her hand and continued her trek to nowhere. Draco Malfoy. She snorted into her glass, he was the last person she thought she would find herself preoccupied with again. She had tried to remove him from her thoughts after the first night, she had cried the night before, she would not cry again tonight. Not over him, but listening to the cool timber of his voice had sent shivers down her spine. Ones she had not felt in a long time. He had filled out again, more so since the last time, she could remember seeing him healthy months before their sixth year.

She had hesitated to look to close, kept her eyes ahead but as he held the man's head in his hands he had been gentle, caring even, about the man. The dark circles she remembered had been gone, he had healed. She placed her hand on her stomach and paused, remembering the warmth that once filled her, their hidden meetings that she had once looked forward too. The puzzle that was Draco Malfoy. She opened her eyes widely and began her pace again, guzzling the wine from her cup. 

She was no longer sixteen and in lust.

She heard footsteps coming to her door and took a larger drink from the cup. A small dribble fell onto her chest and she cursed cleaning it quickly as the door opened. Blaise took one look at her and paused in the doorway eyes wide. He looked from her to the glass and raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t you dare say a word.” She growled walking to the kitchen area and grabbing the bottle to refill her cup.

“Long day?” He questioned closing the door behind him. She glared daggers at him “I kept everyone you requested out of the paper, why are you cross at me today? Weasel give you hell about his close up? Look I can’t keep everyone out of the Prophet, then no one would read it, honestly, it's your neck I care about because that means my neck is taken care of.” He rambled laying his bag down and picking up her bottle of wine. He wrinkled his nose at the label and sniffed at the contents. 

“Ronald and Harry had a case last night.” She took her bottle back and put the cork in the top.

“More Death Eaters?” He asked taking his glass from the cupboard. “At some point, you three are going to catch all of them at this rate.”

“Not sure, they took him to St. Mungos, however.” She ignored his quip and ran her fingers around the edge of the glass.

“The bloke must’ve been in bad shape then if they didn’t just repair him at the scene. Any leads at all or dead end?” Blaise asked looking through the glass bottles in the cabinet.

“The Memory Ward Healer was adamant they would get something, but the Researcher felt otherwise” Blaise dropped the bottle in his hand, and she took another drink from her glass. “You’re going to want something stronger than pumpkin juice by the time I’m through with you.” She said walking away as he grabbed the fire whiskey and followed her. She heard him mumble under his breath as she walked back to the sitting area, sitting on the couch.

“So you know now.” He coughed drinking from the bottle and sitting across from her, she nodded pulling her feet underneath her and resting her cup on her knees.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asked picking at her nails.

“You’re honestly asking me that? It was easier. If neither of you knew about the other. The moment he stepped out of Azkaban, he wasn’t the same. I can’t imagine anyone would be, not with all that he had to do on his release. I had to write the story, I wrote it and stored it away, no one needs to know, not until he is ready. I do favors for more than just you Granger.” He smiled taking another drink.

“He’s a Healer out of Azkaban with a drinking problem.” She blanched and drank from her own glass, noting the irony of it.

“Yes and you’re so incredibly perfect, came out of the war without any sort of a problem, you can stand crowds, have your arm touched without knocking a bloke out and loud noises don’t turn you into a puddle.” She opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of the water as Blaise cocked his eyebrow again and raised his glass to her. “ However the damaged, ex-prisoner is a Researcher, he can’t become a Healer with his past, he has to research to stay there. They need him too, with the Memory Ward being full. It would be a damn shame to lose him, they won’t admit that though if people know the infamous Draco Malfoy, the one the great Harry Potter shammed yet freed was the reason half of London had their memory back in the last year alone.” He shook his head rolled the bottle in his hands “The potions he’s able to brew, the effortless way he can get into the mind. They need him but the money would stop coming in quicker than you could say Galleon.” He shook his head. “Damn shame about the drinking problem though, he said it stops the –“

“Shakes.” She finished for him placing her own glass on the table suddenly sick to her stomach.

“Some people busy themselves in their work, others drown themselves in a bottle. Our favorite Blonde git does both.” He shrugged his shoulders and they sat in silence each staring at their drinks. The red liquid had turned her stomach and she sat it quickly on the end table.

“Hermione,” he said and she flicked her eyes up quickly, she could count on one hand the number of times he had used her first name. “Do not do this again. He isn’t a child that needs saving, just like you aren’t the unruly Gryffindor sticking your nose into everything” He smiled and thought again. “He isn’t evil, he’s done evil things, we all know that, but stay away from him this time. Please.”


End file.
